


Letting Go

by ras_elased



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ras_elased/pseuds/ras_elased
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean remembers a promise Sam made to himself, one he broke before he even made it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> I had a point I wanted to make, and I wrote a story to frame it. Also, this was meant to be gen, but I'm pretty sure some pre-wincest snuck its way in there.

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[fandom: spn](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20spn), [fic: letting go](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20letting%20go), [genre: angst](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20angst), [genre: post-ep](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20post-ep), [rating: pg](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20pg)  
  
  
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Title: Letting Go  
Author: Ras Elased  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: 3.05  
Summary: Dean remembers a promise Sam made to himself, one he broke before he even made it.  
Author's notes: I had a point I wanted to make, and I wrote a story to frame it. Also, this was meant to be gen, but I'm pretty sure some pre-wincest snuck its way in there.

They're fighting again, this time about Mom. Dean can hear them through the open door of the garage, and he wonders why Sammy is the only person able to make Dad angry enough to yell. He sets down his wrench and listens. He can tell by the timber of their voices, hot and harsh, that this is the flash-bang kind of fight. Not so bad then. The bad ones are the ones that grow steadily and viciously into silence.

Dean picks up his wrench and resumes working on the Impala. It feels a little like he's hiding under the car, a thought which grates like sandpaper against his spine, but Dean knows it's too late to break this one up. Better to let it play out, then pick up the pieces after the dust settles.

True to form, it ends a couple of minutes later with a few wildly dramatic door slams, and Dean guesses Sam's stormed off to his room. He doesn't go after him, though he wants to. Dad will come get him when he wants him to go talk to Sammy, and Dean would never dream of going to comfort Sam before Dad gives that permission. It would feel too much like picking sides.

Dean figures fifteen minutes for cooling off time, and that gives him just enough time to finish working on the car before Dad's boots crunch through the sawdust on the garage floor. "How's it coming, Dean?"

Dean steels himself for a moment before rolling out from under the car. He stands, wiping grease from his hands with an oil rag. "Found a leaky fuel line I had to patch up, but she should be fine now. And we're on the last sparkplug," he answers dutifully, though he knows that isn't what Dad really wants from him.

Dad frowns and lifts the hood of the Impala as if to double check Dean's work, but Dean knows Dad's not seeing the engine right now. "Make a note for our next supply run." Dean nods, and when Dad just continues to inspect the car, Dean finds other things to do. He's busy wiping down the tools, a good excuse to stick around, when Dad finally asks, "Dean, will you go check on your brother?" He says it in that tired, anxious voice he always gets when talking about Sam these days. Dean understands that voice, because he knows they both feel it. Sam's only fifteen and Dean can already feel him slipping away. It scares the shit out of him, the thought that someday he might have to let Sammy go, but he _can't._ He just fucking can't.

"Yes, sir," Dean says, and heads down the hallway to Sam's room.

Dean doesn't knock. Never has, never will. He finds Sammy bent over his homework, face pinched up like he thinks the moron who wrote his algebra textbook should just kiss his ass and die. Of course, that could just be Dean projecting.

"Dude, scoot your ass over. I need that porno mag I loaned you." He lifts up the corner of Sam's mattress and grabs the magazine with a grin. "Hey, you been taking good care of this? Because I'll be pissed if you got jizz all over the centerfold."

Dean gets the patented Sammy Winchester Bitchface, but when it isn't followed up by some high and mighty comment on Dean being a sick pervert, Dean knows this fight is for real. "Dad send you?" Sam asks stonily.

"Nah, man. I told you, just needed a look at Miss October." He waggles his eyebrows obscenely and waves the magazine in Sam's face, but he can tell from Sam's glare that he doesn't buy it. Okay, then. Time to change tactics. "Yeah," Dean says with a sigh, then sits down on the bed next to Sam. "Yeah, he did."

Sam crosses his arms and huffs angrily, shaking his head in disdain. Dean knows this is a sign that he's both mollified and about to launch into a rant. Right on cue, Sam says, "I just—I don't get it, Dean. It's been fifteen years! Why can't he just let her go?"

Dean flinches at the tone, but he clamps his jaw against the way he wants to reflexively snap at Sammy for talking about Mom like that, like she's some distant thing they would all be better off forgetting. Sam doesn't remember their mom like he and Dad do. He doesn't remember what Dad used to be like before the hunting. "C'mon, Sammy," he says, twisting his ring around his finger. "You know why."

"Because he loves her," Sam says, as if he hates that fact and can't understand it. Sam frowns, and Dean recognizes the wrinkle between Sam's eyebrows. He's not going to like whatever comes out of Sam's mouth next. "Dean, do you think it's possible to love someone _too_ much? I mean, to love someone so much that it just twists you up inside and breaks you, makes you less of a person?"

Dean feels something wrench sideways in his gut, and he struggles to keep his face neutral. Dean thinks about the way he held Sam when he was a kid, used to rock him to sleep and tuck him in at night. Then he looks at Sam and thinks about the way he wants to hold him now. Dean swallows and says, "Yeah, Sammy. I think it's possible."

Sam seems lost in thought for a long time, considering Dean's words, until he finally says with all the certainty of adolescence, "I never want to love anyone like that."

There is a moment of heavy silence, and Sam must see something in Dean's face, some doubt, or hope, because he objects a bit more adamantly, "I don't!"

Dean figures he needs to work on his game face, because Sammy's getting way too good at observing people. Forcing his face into a smile, Dean waves the porno mag in Sam's face. "Yeah, well, we'll see if you still say that after you've seen your first pair of real tits."

When Sam scoffs and makes an annoyed face to hide the way his mouth wants to quirk into a grin, Dean knows things are okay for now. It's not much, but it's something Dean can hold on to.

***

"Is that what you want, Dean? You want me to just let you go?"

Dean looks at Sam and doesn't answer. He doesn't trust his voice, and he can't afford to let his game face slip, because then Sam will see. He'll see that Dean doesn't want that, can barely stomach the possibility, gets sick at the thought of how much he wants exactly the opposite. And it's for that reason more than anything else that Dean knows he deserves to go to Hell.

Dean can't stand the idea of Sammy broken, like him, like Dad. But if Sam ever does let go, Dean knows without a doubt that it will kill him before the hellhounds can even come close.

_   
**Letting Go**   
_


End file.
